


One "QUEEN" Size Bed

by quart1146



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Arrow - Fandom, olicity - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-08-08 23:03:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7777150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quart1146/pseuds/quart1146
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver and Felicity have broken up. Felicity has moved on and gotten a new boyfriend, and Oliver is trying to deal with it. Now they are back in Sin City to meet with Constantine's priestess friend, who's requested a special meeting with Oliver. But when when they arrive at the hotel there's only one "Queen" bed available to sleep on. What happens next? </p><p>Of course this is AU.</p><p>The CW owes all rights to Arrow and it's characters. I own my part of the story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

I read a discussion on Tumblr, (which I'm still struggling with.  The site not the discussion and talk about a site that just makes me feel STUPID.) Anyway.

Sigh loudly.

I read a post talking about a OTP and one bed. (The beauty of the idea was there were no names. And then someone pointed out that it could apply to any OPT from any fandom which is kind of awesome in it's own way. And this post had went viral which means it touched a lot of people. Talk about making me think.)

Then we have all the spoilers and well, I just couldn't stop this. It was write it or be smothered by it kind thing. I hope you enjoy and of course, I seem to live for reviews. So come on, be the one and write me a note. But even if you don't thanks for the read.

I personally loved this because it totally flowed like a swollen river, and I know it's not what I should be writing, but here goes. It lasts as long as it lasts. And I will update my other story soon. Cheers.

#####OQ####

"I'm telling you I booked two rooms. I'm sure of it. Give me a minute and I'll show you the receipt."

Her voice rose, and Oliver knew she was stressing, and his hands fisted as he didn't reach out and touch her.

No, she doesn't want you anymore.

He ground his teeth, knowing she wouldn't want him reach and touch her. No ,these days, if he forgot and reached and touched her, she acted like he'd burnt her, like he'd hurt her, harmed her and Jesus, her reaction hurt him, deeply.

And her reaction cut him to the core, to the very core, and these days, he found himself thankful she stayed with him.

And he'd be damned if he do something to make her completely leave him alone. So, he took a small step back and didn't reach and didn't attempt to touch her.

Frowning, he thought this being friends thing was hell, but at least she flew somewhat in his obit, at least she'd still talk to him about the missions, about fighting crime. Okay, it was crumbs, but it was something, and he couldn't seem to let her go.

Standing tall on her heels, she wasn't giving an inch as she tried to check into the hotel in Sin city.

They were supposed to meet up with Constantine's priestess friend again. He'd been surprised when he gotten Constantine's call that the woman wanted to see him.

"Hey, mate she got a message for you." Constantine had said, "And it has something to do with Damien Darhk's death and the transfer of all that magic you released into the air. Your fault totally. Go meet with her. This is important, mate. Do it and do it soon. I'll be in touch."

The man behind the counter words drug him back to the present, "I understand that you thought," the man honestly did air quotes with his fingers, "you booked two rooms but somehow the second room was never reserved, though the one room you do have reserved has a queen size bed."

He suppressed his grin at the word 'queen,' but frowned as Felicity looked like she been stabbed.

"Add another room to my card. I need two rooms." Her words harsh, he felt raw from the clear slight as she held up her hand and made the peace sign.

The man shook his head. "I'm sorry. We're booked full for the night. We have several conferences staying with us right now, and you wouldn't even have this room if you hadn't reserved in advance."

She rocked on her heels and he suppressed a small smile. "But, I need another room. Perhaps, I can find another hotel?"

Okay, enough was enough. He reached and touched her shoulder with his pointer finger. "Felicity, can I speak to you for a moment."

Again, he stilled his hand, when he wanted to reach out and take her arm.

God, he missed touching her, but he stepped back and thrust his hands in his leather jacket pockets. Carefully he fingered the red hair tie he'd pocketed one day as they had made love together, back in the old days when she'd still loved him.

Unable to help himself, he punished himself, as he smoothed her hair tie as his chest contracted painfully.

However, he ignored the hair tie, forcing the words out, "Take the room."

"I'm worried about the one bed thing." Her cheeks stained red. "You know that platonic thing we have going on right now. I want to keep it that way, and I just." She swallowed then caught his eyes and he looked away.

"I just don't want to strain our relationship any more than it is, not that we have a relationship or relations any more or that I want you to strain anything." She groaned.

He gave a small shake of his head and said, "It'll be fine. I'll just sleep on the floor. Don't worry, I'll be fine. I'm used to it." But he held back the words that ever since she'd left he'd returned to sleeping on the floor. He refused to tell her that he missed her so much that he couldn't even sleep on the cot in the lair because she'd brought it for him, and he'd returned to sleeping very little anyway. The bed was made because he never laid on it anymore. Mainly, he trained and patrolled and hoped someone fought back, so he could forget for a few minutes how miserable and alone he felt inside. And he didn't even have John anymore, and Skype wasn't the place to tell his friend how much he was dying inside.

Her expression pained, he tried to smile, tried to reassure her as he said, "Really it's no big deal. I just want to get this meeting done and over with. Come on, take the room."

"If you're sure, Oliver? But you're not sleeping on the floor. We're adults. And you know about Peter."

His hands fisted tightly in his pocket.

"Yes, I'm fully aware, you're seeing Peter." He couldn't stop the small sigh that escaped him. "Look this is only one night, so just take the room. I'll get the luggage. Please leave my keycard at the desk." His voice sounded stilted even to himself, but he couldn't help it.

Stomach on fire, he turned on his heel and pulled his hands from his pockets and scrubbed his face. Oh, yeah, he reached desperately for control, needed his rigid control as thoughts of killing a man named Peter swiftly washed over him.

Honestly, he didn't know how much longer he was going to be able to keep watching her move on, since he kept imagining taking the man's hands off at his wrists, and he wanted to start with his fingernails and work his way up. And he couldn't stop his mind from replaying the first time he'd seen Peter touch her hand, and she'd smiled up at the man, smiled like she used to smile at him, and he'd hurt like someone had cut him, tortured him, as he'd watched. 

Truthfully, he HATED, Peter, the damn cop, the detective, that she'd met at THEIR coffee shop. And why would you date a cop when what they were doing wasn't dangerous enough? But date a cop she was and he hated the damn man who she was currently dating, currently seeing, always texting, and heaven help him, made her smile, and who he was deathly afraid that she was currently sleeping with.

A terrible urge to kill, to bath in blood, filled him, and he had to savagely push the almost blood lust down. And yes, alright, he might be stalking her, though he told himself it was only to make sure she was safe. But he knew she'd stayed late at Peter's place last week, and he'd been beside himself and had beat the dummy for hours later. And the damn man also seemed to make her happy, something he'd always wanted for her.

What was he supposed to say to that? That he didn't want her to be happy?

No, he loved her and wanted her to be happy but inside he was selfish, and what he'd truly wanted was her to be happy with him, damn it. Couldn't he ever have what he wanted? What he needed? And his chest ached and his stomach burned.

And yes, he knew his lie had destroyed her love, just like everything he touched he'd tainted her, destroyed them. He knew his soul was black and that was the way it was.

Yet, she was moving on, leaving him behind, while he was stuck in emotional quicksand, helpless to do anything but watch her delight over her new man, while his heart bled daily as he heaped the blame on himself.

And, yeah, he deserved this since he'd been nothing but stupid to lie to her, to hurt her the way he had. He was nothing but a fool, and he was a love sick fool at that.

Passing the exercise room, he made a mental note to make use of the equipment as soon as he got the luggage in the room. Exiting the building, he assured himself that he could survive one night in a queen sized bed without touching her. Yes, he could and would do this.

Tomorrow morning they would meet with the priestess and then this would be over, except for the uncomfortable two hour drive back to Star City, while she chatted to fill the quiet, and he held himself together with sheer will while what he truly wanted to do was pull over and kiss her into oblivion, to prove to her that she was his and he was hers. And that was the way it WAS!

Oh, how he hurt inside and how he missed her. God, why had he allowed himself to have these feelings? He knew what happened if he allowed himself to feel. He had to find the ice again, needed to stop feeling.

Walking toward the large black sedan he'd borrowed from his sister, he tried to shut down his emotions. He didn't like the sedan because it reminded him of his mother and his part in her death, but he'd needed a car, and he'd given the Porsche back. Thea had tried to get him to keep the Porsche but after their break up, the car had carried too many memories, way too many memories and some of them sexual memories.

Oh, he missed touching her.

Unlocking the black sedan's huge trunk, he stared at their bags sitting beside each other. Reaching to grab her large bag and his tiny one, he thought as usual she'd packed way more than she needed and his chest hurt as the painful memories of their happy summer trip assaulted him.

"I miss you," he said out loud.

Chest aching, physical pain smashed into him like a fist, he reached out and grabbed the truck's lid while his gut excruciatingly tightened. His other hand trembled as he denied the terrible urge to punch the car's trunk, as it almost over powered him, and he had to stop himself from punching metal until he couldn't punch anymore, his hands be damned.

Right, his mind said, it will be no big deal to lie next to the woman you love in a queen sized bed, to lie next to the woman who doesn't want you anymore and ache from needing to touch her.

Are you sure you don't like torture? He thought slamming the truck shut.

#####OQ#####

Okay, I know I should be updating my other story but this one was truly smothering me. At least 2 or more chapters left on this one. Please talk to me if you have time. Reviews are my lifeline. LOL And as always thanks for the read.

Anyone want to hear Felicity's POV next?

I've also been writing on Tumblr today. I think I've cracked who Felicity's new boyfriend is on the show. I welcome you to read my Tumblr post "And Will the New Felicity's Boyfriend Please Stand Up?" I'm quart1146 there too and on twitter. Come on if you follow me, I'll follow you.


	2. Chapter 2

He walked stiffly away, she knew he struggled with their situation. Yes, she knew he quietly suffered and would keep suffering since he craved pain.

His smile no longer reached his eyes, though he'd hid it from her, yet she didn't know the last time she'd heard him laugh. She'd even tried to make him laugh or smile in the last month. Not that it worked most days since he'd become more and more introverted, and she knew she was making him crazy. She knew their break hurt him, hurt both of them since they were connected, somehow, in tune and needed each other.

Yet, she refused to give in, refused to make this easy for him. He'd lied to her, not trusted her and he deserved this.

Stupid, fracking man.

However, her blood quickened as she watched him scrub his scruffy face and wished she could stop wanting him, wished she could turn him off. Every time he got close, every time she smelled him, every time, she ached to climb him like a tree, every time, she wanted to reach for his belt, unbutton his pants and free his erection, hard and pulsing, wonderfully hard, she wanted to push him against any hard, flat surface and take him quick and rough.

And it took ever thing she had not to give in, not to take him.

Oh, God, how he'd spoiled her, pleased her and loved her.

His very scent turned her on, made her aching wet for him, missing him.

He used to touch her on a regular basis and she needed his touch, leaned toward it.

She remembered small touches to her shoulder, her arm, her cheek, reaching for her hand and her body and he'd dropped loving small kisses on top of her head, or on her face, her shoulders, and the back of her neck.

And now if he touched her, it was all she could do not to push him against any available flat surface, so, she jerked away from him, since she had to refrain, had to make herself hold back.

However, before Oliver, she'd never thought of herself as excessively sexual but now she knew better.

Oliver Queen had completely ruined her. Okay, she was seeing Peter, and she honestly liked the man, was trying her very best to like the man, but she couldn't stop comparing him to Oliver.

And he was not only a cop, but a detective, and he was the one person that she wasn't being anywhere honest with.

No, she was lying to him.

And yes, the man was a straight shooter but he wasn't the Green Arrow. He simply wasn't Oliver Queen.

The man she couldn't help but love.

They'd been dating over a month now, and clearly, Peter wanted to sleep together. A man, he wanted the psychical part of a relationship, and she liked him. The man make her smile and laugh at the most unexpected times. She enjoyed his company. And it wasn't that he was rushing her into sex, though she'd admit that his kisses were nice enough, enough heat to be pleasant, but they didn't set her on fire like Oliver's.

Damn Oliver Queen's hot needy mouth.

But she couldn't allow a relationship with Oliver since he'd he'd lied to her. Not after he hadn't trusted her. Oliver would never change, and she'd accepted that. Her Oliver was dark where Peter was light. Peter was funny where Oliver was serious and intense. And Peter hadn't lie to her and Oliver, even after all they'd been through together, he'd lied to her for months, fracking MONTHS. The worst part was he'd lie'd even after Malcolm Merlyn knew, even after Thea'd known.

Now that was the greatest hurt of all.

"Damn him," She watched him shoved the outside door hard, almost attacking the door as his anger shimmered, like a living thing as he walked though, and she understood as she pulled her anger at him closer.

"Let me get your receipt." The man turned and disappeared in a door behind the desk.

Tapping her pink painted nails against the desk, she waited, while thinking she could have built a computer in the time this man took to get her a receipt.

Her phone chimed and glancing, she saw Peter's blonde head, all toothy smile, come up.

The man was very cute in his own way. With a swipe of her finger, she opened the text, and she grinned as she read, "Hey beautiful, I'm sitting here thinking of u. And u r hot. I miss u!"

"Awe, that's sweet." Her fingers flew on the smart phone as she hit send.

Peter made her smile, and he knew how to make her blush. Where Oliver had hardly ever told her she was pretty, Peter gushed over her. He mentioned how lovely she was.

Where Oliver hardly ever commented on her clothes, Peter loved her outfits and told her he adored the way she dressed.

He gave her the bid head.

Where Oliver never noticed her makeup matched her clothes, Peter commented on her color combinations. He noted her shoes, doing it so many times that sometimes she wondered if he was gay, but she pushed that thought back, way back.

Where Oliver never gave her anything but work, okay there had been that fern, but Peter gave her silly things like stuffed animals, glow bracelets and cotton candy.

However, where Peter didn't lie to her, unfortunately she'd lying to him pretty much all of the time.

But she tried to not think about that fact. It was necessary.

When Peter asked how she spent her evenings, she evaded by biting her lip and making up a story, and she knew that she'd lied to him.

Just like this trip.

Ding. "Hope ur friend is feeling better?"

Frowning, she found her thumbs hesitated. How to not lie but yet not tell the truth, she wondered as she texted, "Yeah. Tks."

Okay, she wasn't visiting a sick friend. No, she was here with Oliver visiting the priestess again. Not that Oliver'd wanted her to come. Indeed, he'd seriously tried to hide John Constantine's call from her and had only told her about it after she'd directly asked him who'd called because she could clearly see he was stressing out. And Oliver was going out of his way not to lie to her, though she was still finding he was lying by omission part of the time. Which just proved to her that he was never going to change.

And sweet, funny Peter was hard to resist after brooding, serious Oliver.

Who, speak of the devil, had just jerked the door open like he wanted to kill it, like he needed to draw first blood, and she sighed.

Then she groaned as she watched him quickly school his face when he realized she was still in the lobby.

"Problems?" Here came his fake small smile.

"He's went after my receipt and the key cards. I swear he's slower than Christmas. I could have built two computers and three printers by now. And wrote some great code, besides."

The man chose that moment to walk through the back door and handed her the receipt along with two key cards.

Crinkling her nose, she realized that he smelled like cigarettes and she almost gagged.

"Your room's on the fourth floor. Room 408. None smoking."

"Maybe you should think about the patch or maybe vaping because you reek, " she said. Turning sharply on her high heels, she punched the elevator button, while she refused to look at him and wondered if things could get any more unconformable between them then right now.

The elevator whooshed open and both of them stepped inside.

Instantly, she thought about the time that he'd pressed the elevator's stop button at Palmer Tech and then taken her in his arms. It had been totally out of his controlled personality and the closest he'd ever come to loosing control, as he'd turned and pressed her against the wall with the words, "I need you now. Please let me. I have to touch you. I can't stop."

Then he'd ignored the alarms as he'd kissed her into a sweet melting mess right before he'd ripped her panties from her, with one smooth moment.

In a quick Oliver motion, he'd loosed his belt, dropped his pants, gave her slit a swipe to make she she was wet for him and then violently, almost brutally thrust himself powerfully into her while he'd enveloped her, surrounded her with himself and his love.

And she'd found that she'd had to cum almost instantly as he'd picked up the pace and smothered her with his intense love, while whispering how much her adored her in her ear.

She reddened as she remembered his sweet words.

Yes, she remembered that if there was one thing he was good at, it was at making her cum. It seemed almost his hobby sometimes. He'd hold himself back for an insane long time as he worked her over, using his mouth and his body to make her cum over and over before he would allow himself to follow.

It was like he needed to excel at making her cum. He made it a test almost, as he held his pleasure back, until he made her scream, repeatedly make her scream and only then would he allow himself to topple over the edge.

His control was a thing of wonder, and he always put her first, even if she could tell sometimes he barely hung by a thread, if he grasp her too tightly as he struggled to hold on, even if she tried to push him over the edge.

And now she wondered how Peter would make love with her. Would he be soft and gentle or ravish her?

Not had Oliver had once truly lost control with her. Even when she'd pushed him hard against a wall or a pillar had Oliver lost his control and screwed her with abandon.

And she had gotten to the point that she wanted him to go crazy, wanted him to lose his control.

But, no, he'd always slowed the pace and his trembling hands, the only sign that she affected him, would pull her close and made love with her, not to her but always with her, even if he'd held her so tightly that she'd found that he'd bruised her the next day. Even as he'd whispered how much he loved her, how special she was to him, he'd controlled himself.

Oh, but she'd missed him, and she saw his hand tremble, saw his small tick in his hand before he stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets, as they stood in silence and watched the floors' light change as they climbed higher.

Then the elevator jerked to a stop. And an alarm went off along with the lights as she found himself in his arms as he pulled her into his embrace.

"Seriously, Oliver? Let me go. It's just a black out." Instantly, she found herself much too warm, and she quickly pushed away from him, away from his solid chest.

"Sorry, reflex. I was just steading you." His voice came out harsh. "I don't know how not to take care of you. What do you want me to say?"

She took a step back. "I want you to back off. I can take care of myself."

"I never said you couldn't. And I'm trying."

Her phone lit up, and Peter's face illuminated the dark space, and she swore he growled like a wild animal that was in pain.

Swiping the screen, she read, "What r u wearing babe? Show me."

"Oh, frack," she pressed the phone's screen against her breasts hiding his words but she knew he had already seen.

"I can't keep doing this unless you want me to kill him." His words were harsh. "I can't take much more, Felicity. When are you going to be done punishing me?"

"I'm not."

"Yes, you are. Don't I ever get a second chance? Please can we talk about this? I'm not doing well here. All I can thing about is KILLING him."

"You've had more than one chance, Oliver, and your lies ruined us. We're over. And you'd better leave him alone."

"And what are you doing now?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean with Peter. You're no better than me, only you meant more to me and always will."

"Shut up, Oliver. I don't want you to tell me that. We're over."

"No, I won't. So it's okay to lie to Peter? Aren't you currently lying to your detective? You're no better than me."

"I mean it, Oliver, be quiet."

"Why? Are you telling him what you do at night? Does he know why you're here in Sin City? Does he even know you're with me?  He doesn't does he? You're no different than me. In truth, you're just like me when I was lying to McKenna Hall. Do you remember her?"

"That cop you were dating. Yeah, I remember."

"Well lies are still lies, Felicity. At least I was hiding a son. What about you?"

"Yeah, one you refused to share with me."

The elevator chose that instant to blindingly roar to life, and she snubbed him as the door whooshed open, and stiff backed, she stepped out and hurried down the hall.

Swiping her card, the light on the door turned green, and she swung the door open. Stepping into the room, she froze in her tracks as she took in the queen size bed.

It was a beauty. Her eyes swept red and black covers. She saw the bed was filled with several red pillows and the bed instantly reminded her of their very first night together in Nanda Parbat.

"Oliver." His name slipped out breathlessly.

Entering the room behind her, he gave a swift intake of breath. Moving, he violently slammed their luggage on the coffee table, then he turned abruptly on his heel and stalked out of the room, throwing the words over his shoulder, "I'll be back later," as he left her standing looking at that bed, while he banged the door so hard that it rattled on its hinges in his wake.

And she struggled with the sudden need to cry.

Moving in a fit of motion, she ripped the comforter and pillows from the bed and stuffed them into the closet and slammed the door hard, like she could shut a door on that part of her life, like she could make it all go away, like she could pretend that Oliver'd never happened, never touched her life.

Helplessly, she then sank into the floor and unable to stop, she sobbed for what could have been, for them because heaven help her she still loved him.

#####OQ#####


	3. Chapter 3

Jerking the door open to the stairs, he rushed down four flights of stairs. The black rage engulfed him, almost smothered him as he ached to hurt, ached to kill someone, and not just someone but a man named Peter that had touched her.

The basic need to punch something, someone, overwhelmed him. He found he wanted someone to bleed, and not just a little but profusely.

With a bang, he jerked the door to the bottom floor garage open and the door slammed against the wall. Damn shame there was no one that wanted a fight waited for him when he opened the door.

He wished desperately for someone who wanted to fight him.

Jogging now through the underground garage, he found the black sedan on the second level and effortlessly unlocked the door and got in. Cranking the engine, he put the car in gear, and squealing the tires, he drove out of the underground garage and headed south, looking for a bar, looking for a fight, hoping he'd find someone that would be willing to fight back.

He needed the pain, craved it and wanted it badly and needed to embrace it.

#####OQ#####

With her headache pounding, she finally picked herself up off the floor. Waiting a little bit, she forced herself to check her e-mail, to go over some code but inside she was dreading but hoping that he'd come back to her, that he'd return to the room. Finally, she forced herself to take a shower and then she'd pampered herself. Taking time for herself, but every minute that passed weighed on her as she wondered where he was and what he was doing.

She knew he tended to blame himself, not that he wasn't to blame but Oliver wasn't like the normal person. And knew that he would punish himself too.

It was after eight now and still he hadn't returned.

Carefully, she got up and dressed in a bright colored flowery dress, intent on going to find him. She didn't understand why she couldn't give him up, but as the time pasted, she found that she couldn't stop herself as she got her tablet out and looked to see where he was, knowing that like her, he was in pain, she activated the chip in his phone and took deep breathes waiting for the search to complete.

Pressing her lips together, she found that she had to know where he was, and she needed to know now.

It took only a few seconds to find him.

"Seriously," she said out loud. "Oliver what's wrong with you? A bar? Truly? You don't drink. You don't do this? What are you thinking?"

#####OQ#####

He ordered whiskey straight and told the bar tender to leave the bottle.

And he was doing shots. More shots than he had done in years. He wished he could drink enough to get drunk.

Drunk would help him forget and he found that he needed, no he ached to forget.

But it didn't seem to be working. He didn't' seem to be able to drink enough to forget.

Wanting to drink more and more, he hoped, no, he found that he begged that for now please let him just forget.

Please, let him, for one instant, stop thinking about how he'd screwed up everything in his life, how he'd stupidly drove her light away, how he'd lied and hid secrets, and about how he deserves to ached for her and how he no longer wanted to survive this.

More and more, he wished to die. Yes, he wanted to DIE. Needed relief from the pain that clawed at him.

God or someone needed to help him and if not tonight then tomorrow. What he needed was for him to just let him feel better, and he was actively hunting an escape to his madness.

Killing again had begun to consume his thoughts, to consume him. The urge to drive back to Sun City and KILL Peter for touching her, for having what was his filled him, almost overpowered him, as the notion of killing the man slashed through him, and he found that he had to fight the urge to KILL. The urge that had become ruthless and almost overpowering and it made his hands shake violently, as he thought about killing the man who'd touched what he considered his woman, with his bare hands.

He wanted to choke him, to steal the breathe from his lungs, and he wanted to hurt him and wanted to end the man's life and it took all he had in him, not to give in to the urge and go get in the car.

The need to kill urged him to buy a gun, to buy a knife, and sharpen it, sharpen it until it was razor sharp and then use it to slit the man's throat. He'd even stopped at a pawn shop and looked at the knifes in the glass case, and he'd thought about how he would get rid of Peter's body.

Argus would help him dispose of Peter's body, especially if he killed one or two people for them. He was sure of it.

Okay, Lyla wasn't Amanda Waller but she still had an agenda. And both of them understood how Argus worked.

Surely, three deaths would seal the deal with Argus. What were three more deaths on his record in the scheme of things? His soul was already lost, and he was dark inside and he no longer had any reason to look for the light.

And then Peter would disappear FOREVER.

Realizing that he couldn't stop the smile from forming on his face then, he instantly worried what was wrong with him. The urge to kill ripped at him, pulled at his will. Felicity wouldn't want him to kill but then she didn't want him. He had to understand that. SHE DIDN'T WANT HIM.

He was having problems with real right now and found that he also wanted to have what was his. His mind was urging him to take was his. It was only right because she BELONGED to him. Why didn't she understand that? Peter was the problem. He had to take care of the problems.

But then she'd told him to leave Peter alone.

He was past confused. His brain had somehow short circuited, and he felt like something was wrong. No matter what he couldn't kill Peter. Stop thinking about killing, he told himself.

Scrubbing his face, he tried to find his focus as he poured himself another shot.

#####OQ#####

Entering the bar, Felicity hesitated as she stood at the entryway.

He was easy to find. His black leather jacket hung perfectly from his chair and several women flocked around him. With bold steps, she walked right up to the group until she stood beside him. Unable to stop herself, even knowing it was wrong, she placed her hand on his shoulder and looked hard as each of the women that flanked him.

"Oliver, I was wondering where you went. Are you ready to take me to dinner? I'm hungry."

It took everything in her not to declare to the women, "He's taken. HE'S MINE. STEP AWAY from my MAN." But she knew she couldn't say the words, that she had no right, that she given up any rights to him. Yet that didn't stop her from glaring hard at the three women, clearly daring them to try to take him from her.

His muscles rippled beneath her hand, and he turned and as his eyes clearly found hers. Instantly, she felt like he was ready to completely devoured her as he unexpectedly jerked her closer to his body, holding her much too tightly for an instant as he merged her body with his.

For a moment, she thought, and almost hoped that he was going to kiss her and her heart raced as she ached for his kiss as the women picked up their drinks and walked away.

Peter, she reminded herself, but she melted into him for an instant.

Just don't do it, her brain told her.

She had to think about Peter, about the fact she had a boyfriend, and she pushed back from Oliver with the words, "You can say thank you, Felicity, for rescuing you. And you can let me go now."

"Did I look like I needed rescued? And if we want to sell this you need to lean toward me not pull back."

He flashed her an Oliver sexy grin with his words.

"They've left and yes, you did. Since, I know you don't like the extra female attention."

"Maybe I liked it tonight. Maybe I'm looking for a little company. Someone to keep me warm. You'd understand, right, since you have Peter now? "

The idea that he could go home with someone else stole the color from her face, and as she watched he shut his eyes for a moment.

"Look I don't want to do this. I'm not into hurting you. I've never meant to hurt you in the first place and that was a clear stab at you." He said quietly, releasing her and then turning his back on her, clearly ending the conversation with the words, "Maybe you should go back to the hotel. I'm not good company."

"And leave you alone?"

He reached for the bottle and poured another shot, not looking at her as he tossed it back. "Yeah, maybe I should be alone. Just let it go. You have Peter now. I understand that you've moved on, and now I'm going to move on too."

"How much have you had to drink?"

"Not enough."

"Come on, Oliver. Please, you need to leave with me. Let's go back to the hotel. Let's go get something to eat." Reaching out, she put her hand on his shoulder, and he shrugged her off, acted like she'd hurt him by touching him and it pained her.

"Don't touch me." His words were harsh. "What would Peter think?"

"I don't care right now. What I think is that you should call it a night. Come on. Let's go get something to eat. I'm hungry. When did you eat last? I don't think I've seen you eat all day."

Instead of answering her, he reached for the bottle and poured another shot. Slamming the bottle down, he knocked back the shot, and she realized that his eyes were not his normal blazing blue, that they were still blue but now they were more steel blue then baby blue.

And something nagged at her that she had seen those eyes before. That those blue metallic eyes didn't belong to him.

Reaching, she touched his face and realized he felt hot, like he was running a low grade fever. "Oliver, are you sick?"

"No, I'm fine."

"Then have you done something other than drink? Taken something maybe?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Drugs maybe?"

Shaking his head, he said, "No, Felicity, I haven't been doing drugs. How could you even asked me such a thing? You know how I feel about drugs. You know how I treat my body?"

"I've notice repeatedly. And you know I love how you treat your body, but I mean it, Oliver, you feel a little warm and there's something wrong with your eyes. I've spent enough time looking in your awesome sexy blue eyes to know what they look like and your eyes aren't it. I mean the color's wrong, the shade's wrong, totally not the Oliver Queen blue but something else. Oh, did I say that out loud? Crap."

"It has to be the light in here. I'm fine. Nothing's changed."

"I don't think so. Your eyes are the WRONG color. Oliver, are you feeling strange? Anything, you're maybe hiding from me or lying about? Do you feel alright? I know this is hard, my having a boyfriend that isn't you but really your eye color is off."

"Felicity, look, I'm a grownup. I know when I'm sick and I'm not AND I'm NOT LYING about anything."

"Well there's a first time for everything. But something is off with you."

"Maybe, I'm having a hard day. Can't I have a hard day? I'm trying to deal with you moving on, that you're dating. Now I don't want to talk about this. I just want to get through this weekend. Don't hurt me anymore than you already have by trying to make me talk about you having a boyfriend."

"You want to talk about hurt? I can tell you about it. Hiding your son, lying to me over the league, trusting Malcolm Merlyn more than me, not just once but twice. Or how about you not coming to see when when I was shot up and lying paralyzed in the hospital. Yes, I want to talk about how much it hurt not knowing if you were going to come visit me or not."

"Touché. _"_

His hand reached again for the bottle, and she stayed his hand, as she reached with her other hand and turned his shot glass upside down, knowing he'd had enough, hoping to convince him to leave with her with the words, "But regardless, we have things to get done in the morning and, it's getting late. Besides, I can't see you drinking shots all night as a good idea. Please, Oliver, let's go get something to eat. This isn't the best neighborhood, and I want you to come with me. I took a cab here but who knows if I can find one now? Do you want me to leave alone? What if something happened? You know you have the car."

She was playing him, and she knew it and from the tiny smile on his face, he knew it too. Standing, he pulled his leather jacket off the chair and said, "You win. Burgers okay with you?"

"Perfect. I'll even eat Bigger Belly if they have one." And they left the bar together, not touching but still together.

Exiting the bar, the street light lit up the sidewalk, and once more, Felicity wondered again what was wrong with the color of his eyes.

Carefully, he reached out and tried to take her hand as they walked down the street.

"Don't." She said, "We're just friends."

"I don't know if I can be just friends." He said solemnly as he clasp her hand.

"I understand." She said. "But let's give friendship a chance. We used to be friends."

Then she pulled her hand from his and held her hand out. "Keys. Friends don't let friends drive drunk."

"I'm not drunk. Really, I'm fine. I can drive. Trust me I'm still sober."

"That's what they all say. And I saw how much you'd drunk out of that bottle. So give them up."

Sighing, he dug the keys out of his jacket pocket and gave them to her, and then they both climbed in the car and headed out to find a burger.

#####OQ#####

Okay talk to me. What do you think? As always, thanks for the read. Until next time.


	4. Chapter 4

"Oliver, are you in pain? You're squirming like you're uncomfortable."

Looking at her over his burger, he shrugged. "My side's hurting. I'm trying to ignore it." But it was hard since it seemed like his side was on fire and the urge to kill Peter was killing him. Every time, he thought about Peter touching her, he saw himself killing the man.

"What about your side hurts?"

"Just my side."

"That's not an answer."

"What do you want me to say?"

"How about the truth? Heard of it?" She shook a fry at him and then added, "But then it's Oliver Queen I'm talking to."

"Fine! My tattoo's inflamed. But it's nothing. And I'll going to have it removed just like the other one. I'm going to find a doctor tomorrow."

"If it's inflamed a doctor isn't going to take it off. Let me to look at it?"

"NO, thanks."

"Okay, you don't have to be angry about it." She added salt to her fries and his stomach turned.

Lowering his voice, he said meaningfully, "Have you ever thought about having high blood pressure? Maybe, you need to take it easy on the salt."

"Whatever." She said with a wave of her hand. "Here do you want some? Maybe you'd eat more if you put some on your food." 

She held the salt shaker toward him, and he sat back in his chair, with the words, "No, keep that away from me."

"It's not a weapon, Oliver, it's just salt. What is up with you?" Felicity was looking at him like he'd lost his mind. 

And maybe he had as he found his heart was pounding, but he managed to said, "Nothing. Just keep that on your side of the table. And I'm just thinking about your health. Too much salt can be bad for you." 

A stab of pain sliced through him, and he found himself shutting his eyes for an instant, and she said, "Enough hiding. I can tell your in pain. Let me see your side."

"NO! I don't want you to."

Her face fell, and he made himself soften his voice, "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you. I just don't want to bother you with it. I'll be fine."

"You know, Oliver, when you say the word 'fine,' it's a blinking neon sign that you're lying?" She ate another fry dipped in ketchup, before she said, "So, when did it start bothering you? How long ago?"

Watching her, he saw her take a large bite of her burger and his heart ached, as memories of a small burger joint on the coast flooded back, taunting him of those days when he'd truly been happy for the first time in a very long time, and sadness washed over him.

"If you'd kill Peter, you'd be happy." His mind taunted him, "just do it. You know you want to. Dump her at the hotel and drive back."

Chest tightening, he found the sensation, the urge, threatening to overpower him, as his throat closed up. Toying with a fry, he carefully dipped it in ketchup before he put it back on the plate. Flipping the burger open, he forced himself to eat a bite of meat, intaking the protein, then he ate the tomato and lettuce.

"I see you. You're still not eating. Talk to me." And when she reached for him, he didn't pull his hand back as she touched him. No, he stupidly savored her touch, enjoying the pain for an instant before she released him.

"I'm eating." Forcing himself, he ate another small bite of the meat before he gave her a tiny smile, trying to distract her from noticing how little he'd ate.

Her eyes found his and were intense. "Look, you need to eat. Oliver, you're expelling way too many calories from what I've been seeing you take in. You have to eat more."

"Felicity, I'm fine. I just haven't been very hungry lately. Do you want some more fries?" He pushed his plate toward her, knowing it was hard to eat, knowing it was almost impossible to push food past the lump that lived in his throat.

"No, I've plenty of calories on my own plate and NO, you're not fine." She made air quotes with her fingers. "You're losing weight, Oliver. It's showing in your face now. You know muscle will be next. And that would be a shame."

"I'm eating, okay?" And he used his fork to take another small bite of his burger then began to push the food around on his plate, thinking that the meat was over done. He should have ordered it rare.

"You're doing it again. Rearranging is not eating."

"Just stop."

"I can't. I'm worried about you. First your eyes and now you're not eating."

"Felicity, there's nothing wrong with my eyes. And I have been eating."

"And I want to look at your side."

"Look, I'm going to the restroom." Standing he headed toward the bathroom.

His side pained him. He didn't know what was going on with his tattoo, but it was like the darn thing was lit on fire. Pulling his shirt up, he looked at his red and inflamed side, stared at the tattoo that John Constantine had given him, and he wanted it GONE. 

Laying his hand on the tattoo, he found it warm to the touch and it ached, hurt like a bad tooth, and he found thoughts about cutting the tattoo off his body filled his mind. He could image it, could see taking a knife and slicing the tattoo off his body.

"Do it. Get a knife. Sharpen it. Cut it off." His mind insisted, as he looked into the mirror and his mind screamed at him.  "Take it off." 

Something deep inside told him that something was wrong, very wrong as he stared at the steely blue eyes in the mirror.

Was something wrong with his eyes? 

"You're eyes are fine. Perfect, just as they should be." A voice whispered in his head. "But you have to get rid of that tattoo. Remove it. CUT IT OFF. Find a knife."

"Oliver, are you okay?" Her knock came hard and fast, jerking him back to the present. 

"If you don't answer me then I'm coming in. Answer me. Are you OKAY?"

It took everything he had inside to say, "YES. I'm coming. Be right there." And he lowered his shirt, but he still thought of the knife, thought about cutting the tat off, thought about the blood.

Yes, he needed a sharp knife and right now, and he splashed water on his face, trying to clear his mind before he opened the door and gave her a slight smile and said, "I'm ready to go. You?"  

And she frowned back at him but together they left the restaurant. 

As soon as they hit the sidewalk, he held his hand out and said, "I need the keys."

"I don't think so. Get in the car, Oliver."

"I think I'll take a walk. I'll meet you back at the hotel later."

"It's after eleven. And  I don't see you roaming the streets at this time of night as a good thing. "

"I'll be alright. I'll come back to the room later."

"No, Oliver. Besides I need someone to walk me to the room. You know how unsafe underground garages are at this time of the night. Are you honestly going to put me in danger?"

"Of course, not." Yet, he hesitated. 

"Knife," his mind was saying but he reached for the door handle and got in.

#####OQ####

I look forward to your reviews.


	5. Chapter 5

#####OQ######

Parking the car, she looked over at him and wondered what was wrong with him. He hadn't vocalized a word all the way back to the hotel. If he wasn't holding himself so stiffly, she’d have thought he’d fallen asleep.

Though, that in itself was strange since Oliver never fell asleep when traveling or never had their entire wonderful summer.

Frack, the memories of their happy time together still haunted her.

But the fact he now sat silent was strange in its self.

Opening the car door, she climbed out and he sat there, almost in a trance.

She eyed him and waited for him to move.

"Oliver?"

Coming around the car, she knocked on the glass and he didn't move.

"Oliver, can you hear me?" Opening the car door, she reached and he jerked, but he still made no move to get out of the car.

"What’s going on with you? Are you getting out or what? Earth to Oliver. Come in, Oliver. Wake up!"

Reaching, she almost touched him before his hand reached and stopped hers.

"I did not invite you to touch me."

His voice smooth and dark seemed wrong.

No, the deep tone was darker than his voice modulator. Not blinking, his steely blue eyes bored into hers, and she swallowed hard as she jerked her hand away and took a step back from him, and strangely something akin to fear coursed through her.

“What is wrong with you?”

No answer.

“Oliver?”

No response.

Climbing out of the car, he straightened his jacket, and the smooth movement nagged at her. She’d seen it before, as she watched him shut the car door. Swiftly, he turned and walked away from her, leaving her like she was nothing to him.

Silent, clearly ignoring her, he turned and walked away leaving her to catch up.

Heart pounding, she ran on her heels.

Stopping him, she grabbed his arm, spinning him around.

Making him face her, she had the feeling he was thinking about sex, and she realized yet again that she still wanted him.

Frack, she desperately needed him.

“Ms. Smoak,” he growled, as he smoothly pulled away and took a step back and pulled on his jacket’s sleeves, straightening the jacket’s material, as he brushed off a fleck of something from his sleeve.

Glaring at her with those steely blue eyes, he ask, “Don’t you have a boyfriend? I think his name is Peter?”

“I’m not talking about this. We're not talking about him. So not having this discussion with you.”

“Then you would be wrong. I’m talking about the man you’re currently lying to about being here with Oliver? You’re killing him you know?”

“What are you talking about? I’m not killing anyone.”

Yet, he refused to meet her eyes.

“Oliver, are you trying to hurt me? I’m not just dating to make you mad, to upset you. I’m trying to move on with my life, trying to have a normal life. And what the frack did you just say?”

Her heart pounded as she tried to catch his eyes and he still refused to look at her.

“You’ve not seen normal life since you two met. Now if we could get this show on the road.” He smiled and pointed toward the elevator, and said, “Please, you first. But do continue on with your babble, Ms. Smoak. I understand it’s engaging. And I have to agree you’re cute in a blonde sort of way.”

“He? Oliver? What the frack are you talking about? OLIVER! Since when do you call me Ms. Smoak? Have you lost your mind, Oliver?”

Moving, she clutched his hand, stopping him. He blinked repeatedly before looking down at her, his face stressed, looking briefly lost, before he concealed it, before his sad practiced mask slid smoothly into place and his eyes flashed, with brilliant blue.

“Felicity? What’s wrong? Are you alright? You’re awfully pale.”

“Oliver, I’m talking about you here. You’re not acting like yourself. You’re talking in second person. You’re freaking me out. What the frack is going on with you?”

His eyes still seemed strange as he said, “Nothing. I’m fine. Come on you look tired. Let’s get you to bed.” Pulled his phone, he said, “It’s getting late. And it’s been a very long day.”

And he turned and took a few steps and punched the elevator’s up button.

Frozen, her mind raced, tried to process.

“Okay, Oliver Jonas Queen, what the frack just happened? Have you suddenly become bi-polar? Have multi personalities? Who the frack are you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You? You’re acting weird.”

The doors to the elevator whooshed open.

“Felicity, I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. I’m fine.”

Looking puzzled, he frowned down at her.

Entering the elevator, he reached out and held the door open for her.

Now this was her Oliver, the man who held doors open for her, the man who always put her first and the man she knew loved her, who deeply loved her and who she knew she was hurting by dating, but she had to move on.

No matter what.

“I need a life.” She said out loud. “Oliver, you’re not going to change. That’s the way things are. Oliver, you’ve always going to be on your own island.

“Not the man in the car or the garage,” her mind taunted her. ”Something’s wrong, deeply wrong. Something is wrong with Oliver. Look beyond the surface.”  
  
The elevator opened and both of them stepped out and headed down the hall to their room.

Reaching for the card, she unlocked the door and swung the door over.

Once again, Oliver held the door open for her, and she walked through.

The space in the room, although, not that small, seemed tiny as she entered the hotel room, especially as Oliver’s huge frame filled the room.

His eyes darted from the bed, to her face and found her eyes, and he ducked his head, clearly not happy.

Unable to stop herself, she stared at the queen size bed too and a blush stained her face, and he looked away, clearly uncomfortable with the situation.

“Hmm, I’m going to change and go use the weight room.”

Sweeping past her, he grabbed his bag and head down, rushed over and was in the bathroom before she could blink.

“Well okay. Now what? I don’t think I can do this. No.”

She bit her lip and twisted her hands.

“I can sleep in this bed with Oliver and not touch him. Frack, why did the man have to smell so good?”

Frack, she was going to hyperventilate.

#####OQ#####

As always thanks for read. Love to hear what you think. Come on be the one. Talk to me. Hundreds read. Someone needs to talk.


	6. Chapter 6

#####OQ#####

Leaning against the bathroom door, he scrubbed his face with his hands as his brain scrambled to understand.

What was wrong with him?

The last thing he remembered, he'd been drinking shots in the bar, though he had vague memories of being in a bathroom in a restaurant. And maybe of eating a few French fries.

The ride home back to the hotel was a total blank.

It reminded him of his youth, the days when he'd never left a party with his memory intact.

But that had been years ago.  And he'd not done that for years, not since he had found his focus, but he had been drinking shots.

Now, he wondered if he driven the car.

Had he driven the car?

Had he driven her back to the motel?

The thought that he had scared him.

He seriously hoped he'd not, since she'd been in the car too.

Of that he was sure.

Never would he have put her in danger like that but now he wasn't so sure.

Using quick movements, he jerked his shirt off. Freezing, he looked in the mirror. His tattoo stood out blood red and there were dark lines branching out of it.

Maybe, he should call John Constantine? He bit his bottom lip as he stared at the tattoo.

It's nothing, the voice in his head, assured him.

Look how many times have you lost time before?

This isn't the first time your mind has wandered.

Admit it.

You know you get wrapped up in your own head, wrapped up in your past sometimes.

How many times has the past overpowered you and you've lost time?

He realized he didn't know.

Putting on a clean t-shirt, he donned sweats. Grabbing his bag and pocketing his phone, he unlocked the bathroom door and swept past her with the words, "I'm going to work out."

Closing her eyes, she bit her lip as he walked by her.

He tried not to look at her but still he looked, unable to help himself.

And she had to asked as she frowned up at him, with her hands on her hips.

"You're not tired?"

Heavens, he missed this.

This connection between them.

This exchange of words between them.

"No. You?"

"Exhausted."

She leaned in and her scent attacked him, and hell it became hard to breathe.

Yes, he could smell her from the instant she entered the room and always could.

But up close, she truly slayed him, made it hard for him to breathe as he inhaled her scent.

Yet, he still noted the strain on her face, and he stilled his eager hand, refused to allow himself to reach and his hand twitched, and he knew she saw it when she sighed and frowned at him.

"Then go to bed. I'll only be a little while." 

Again he told himself not to reach as his stomach tightened, ached as memories of happier days assaulted him, but he lost the good fight, as he couldn't stop his hand from reaching and quickly touching her face.

And for an instant, she leaned into his hand, and he savored her touch before he made himself pull away.

"You'll stay in the building?" She urged, yet, he heard desperation in her voice.

It warmed him that she sounded like she still worried about him.

Maybe, she did still care.

The thought made his almost high.

Swallowing hard, he gentled his voice and said, "Yeah."

"Promise me?"

"Who has the car keys?"

"I do."

Well that answered that question since he truly hadn't know.

Awesome to know that he'd not driven the car back.

"Well, then keep them."

But the voice in his head urged him to demand she give him the car keys, demanded that he drive back and find Peter, demanded he kill the man that DARED touch what was clearly his, and he rolled his shoulders in a attempt to ease the tension in them.

"Oliver?"

Her hand caught his, effectively stopping him in his tracks as she pulled him toward her and unable to help himself he stopped.

Turning, he looked down at her and their eyes connected, as she said urgently, "Promise me that you'll stay in the hotel, that you won't leave the hotel. I want your word."

Again, her concerned eyes connected with his, and he tried to tell her, tried to communicate with her that he loved her desperately, missed her urgently, and needed her in order to be happy.

Yes, he tried to tell her that he would never be happy without her in his life.

Please, give him another chance.

He wouldn't squander it.

He promised, with everything inside him,

But he couldn't say the words, couldn't take the chance, since he knew she didn't want his heartfelt words, and saying them, baring what tiny part was left of his soul, would only make things harder between them.

And he didn't need that.

So, he kept silent because he needed to keep her around him. It was crumbs but crumbs were better than nothing.

Yet, his hand lingered in her hand, savored the awesome contact, until her touch hurt his heart so much, he pulled carefully away from her.

"I promise. I'll stay in the building. So, get some rest, Felicity."

Turning, he walked away.

Closing the door quietly, he hurried to the fitness center, then he pushed himself into exhaustion, since there was no way in hell he was getting into the queen size bed with her right now.

#####OQ#####

After little after 2:00 a.m., totally exhausted, his body pushed way past the point of wanting to collapse, he scanned his keycard and carefully opened the door, trying to be completely soundless, trying not to wake her.

Stomach aching, chest tight, he stood there in the darkness and watched her sleep. She must have gotten cold since she'd returned those red covers to the bed and now her wild blonde hair contrasted sharply against the dark covers.

Shutting his eyes, he wished he could turn loving her off. On silence feet, he entered the bathroom and stripped off his clothes. Showering quickly to wash off the sweat, he toweled off then noted his tattoo looked worse.

He stripped off his shirt,and looked at the tattoo in the bathroom mirror. The tattoo was inflamed with puffy red lines now surrounding it and in places, the lines had turned purple, not unlike a bruise. Gingerly, he touched it and found his skin hot and painful.

Reaching for his phone off the vanity countertop, he swiped the screen. Engaging the camera app, he hesitated then managed to snap a picture of his side and then thumbed his way through his contacts until he found the name John Constantine. His hand shook as he tried to attach the picture as he thought, should he really bother John?

This is nothing, a voice in his head said. His thumb hovered over the delete button.

Turn the phone off, his mind told him. It will be fine tomorrow. It's late. Just turn the phone off.

Shutting his eyes, he fought himself.

Turn the phone off.

No, press send, he told himself.

Turn the phone OFF.

Sweating, he looked at her asleep in the bed and then forced himself to move his thumbs.

Every letter was agony, but he forced himself.

Just one word, he typed out.

Just the single word, "HELP."

His fingers ached to erase the word, wanted to power the phone down but he fought the urge.

Struggling against himself, he fought to hit the send button, but he finally managed it, though he was breathing like he'd ran a race and had to brace himself against the vanity to do it.

Still breathing hard, his side paining him, hurting him, he exited the bathroom and again stood and stared at her sleeping form.

You want her? His mind whispered.

Yes, he thought.

Then you can have her, his mind whispered. I'll give her to you.

Forever.

You can have her forever.

Just lie down and hold her, and everything will be fine, his mind told him.

Rest. It's time for you to rest.

Lay down and hold her.

She's yours.

He thought about putting his t-shirt back on, but he needed her skin against his skin as he lay down beside her.

Promising himself, that he wouldn't touch her, wouldn't ruin what little bit they had left of their relationship. He'd just lie close enough he could savor her scent, inhale her sweet scent.

And he laid down, slid between the sheets, not touching her and not holding her close, but he still lay still close enough to feel the heat coming off her body.

His chest truly ached as he lay there and drifted in that place between being awake and being asleep, more content than he'd felt in a long time.

Heavens, he'd missed her. Oh, how did he deal with not having her?

He still didn't know.

And he was barely holding on.

Yet, what was bad that this was the best night he'd known in a long time as he drifted away.

Heavens, that was sad.

But then when wasn't what he felt about her really sad?

No, maybe feeling sad was better than not feeling at all?

Maybe?

And a small smile filled his face as he lay close but not close enough to touch her.

Yet, he smelled her.

So what if he couldn't turn loving her off?

However, a small piece of him was glad to be here beside her as he fell into sleep, even though he mourned the fact he couldn't touch her, yet, he was glad to be close enough he could pull her close.

He wouldn't but he could.

At least he had that much, and he drifted away into sleep.

#####OQ#####

Reviews? I look forward to you making my day by talking to me. And as always thanks for the read.

#####OQ#####

I know I need to update this story but November is Nano month, so currently this story is on the back burner but don't worry I will update it. 

However, I've signed up to write a new story of 50,000 words in a month.

Yeah, I guess I like insanity.

Gives me something to do.

Sorry, just like the damn show, there's no Olicity. (Sorry about that.) John Diggle will cameo and there is a reference to Felicity helping out.

Besides that this story is my own creation, and I own all rights to my story. 

So, I am working this month on a totally new story that I'd thought I'd share with my readers. The name of the story is "Gem Fire," and I think it's going to be a great ride.

Hope you will come over and check it out.   
I think it's going to be intense.

 

Summary:

Betty Joe Taylor could really sing. After marrying her childhood sweetheart, Joel Phillips, she became a breakout artist named Gem Fire since she was a Gem and her world was on fire.  
Yet life as a superstar is hard. Joel's changed, and when the opportunity to escape his abuse presents itself, she jumps at the chance. But can she really stay dead? Now that's the question.


	7. Chapter 7

#####OQ#####

He'd returned to the room soaking wet from running in the exercise room. Grabbing a quick shower, he bit his lip then lay down on top of those red covers in that queen size bed, and he turned his back and got as far away from her as he could and exhausted, he passed out.

A short time later, he woke up to find that against his will he'd moved in his sleep. He was in his spot, his very favorite spot in the world.

The place where he'd enfolded her small frame with his large body and spooned his body against her warm back. The place where she made his entire chest ache from the contact, from her scent, her skin. 

 God knew he wanted to just shut his eyes and his throat closed up. Swallowing hard, he'd realized just how much he'd missed this, missed feeling like he'd finally came home. He just wanted to burrow his head in the sand and savor the moment.

But that wasn't reality and he knew it.

Reality, he realized meant he was rock hard and aching. His solid erection settled against her perfect, totally awesome ass and it was pure torture as his body responded, tightened even more at just the thought of what he could do to her, could do with her.

And he wanted her and he wanted her right NOW!

It was all he could do to hold back to not just take her and it would be rough and this very instant.

Her scent enveloped him and heaven knew the way she smelled from the very instant she entered a room. Unbidden, his hand moved and touched her arm, dragging his fingertips gently across her soft skin.

"Oliver, what are you doing?" she asked sleepily, but she turned toward him and her hand touched his chest carefully smoothing the scarred flesh above his nipple through his t-shirt and then moved downward.

His breathe caught in his throat.

Clearing his throat, he said, "Something I shouldn't, but please, yes, touch me and let me touch back for just an instant. I ache."

Again, her hand touched and moved downward and he groaned.

"Oh, how you make me ache," he said quietly. His hand swept softly from her arm to her shoulder to the nape of her neck. 

His hand smoothed and teased her and the sensations pleasured them both.

A sigh erupted from her mouth and her mouth moved, tasting his chest, kissing his scarred flesh as she pulled back and said, "But we can't. Remember, I'm dating Peter now. This is a mistake. Don't."

"Please, I know, but I promise I can make you forget him," he almost growled as he found the pulse at the base of her neck with his mouth. "PLEASE, let me. Please, give me a chance. I need to touch you. Just, let me touch you. Felicity, I really miss you. Just let me touch you for for a minute. I'll stop if you want me to, but I need you more than air right now."

Again his mouth moved downward and his hands were pushing her t-shirt up and his mouth found her nipple, and he sucked making her make those sounds that he loved, the ones that set him on fire.

Thinking no longer existed as he sucked first one breast and then the other, while his hand moved downward rubbing, drawing her pleasure out, making her want more, making her press herself against him as his hand found her core and flicked.

Ripping his head back, he said, "Stop me now, Felicity. Or I won't be able to stop. I need you desperately."

"I can't. Need you, too, bad." Her hands moved down his body, and she used her hot mouth on his chest.

"Damn. The things you do to me. Have mercy. No, better yet, don't."

The sounds she made inflamed him, stoking the fire, heating his blood.

"Touch me. You're killing me. I love you, Felicity. Don't stop. Don't ever stop. I've missed you so much. You're my home. Please I want to come home. I'm so lonely by myself now. Please, let me come home. I ache to come home."

His hands pulled on her clothes, while she tugged on his boxers, her hand blissfully freeing his hard, throbbing dick as she pushed the clothe out of the way, and a moan escaped and his spine tingled.

She was going to unman him, and he hadn't even entered her.

Lord that was pathetic. 

Yet, she felt beyond good.

"Oliver! Stop! Don't! STOP!"

His brain foggy, he realized she fought him, was pushing against him.

Her voice harsh, she wrestled him as he jerked awake to find them both in a state of undress. His hands touched her bare flesh, and he'd rolled on top of her but she struggled against him, pushing against his chest and for a dark instant he couldn't stop himself as she screamed his name in panic.

NO, he wanted her and his brain wouldn't engage, as he needed to strip her and take her hard and fast.

NOW!

He needed her and now.

Moving, forcing himself to withdraw, his breath came in sharp gasps, he rolled off the bed with the words, "I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me. I was dreaming. I never meant to bother you. I never meant to push. I don't know what to say, except I'm sorry and it will never happen again."

He scrubbed his face hard as the self-hate devoured him, heart and soul.

She clutched those red covers with a death grip, her lovely face white, and he knew he'd frightened her, that he'd crossed a line.

Swallowing hard, he turned and went into the bathroom, shutting the door forcefully behind him. Clutching the countertop hard, he trembled, as the urge to lash out, and to destroy everything filled him.

Hate swelled dark and hard, inside him, burning his chest, as he thought of what could have happened if she hadn't woken up.

He'd have taken her hard and fast and knew it. And it would have felt damn good.

But it would have been WRONG. But he would have still taken her.

And he totally wanted to have her, and it took all he had not to finish what they'd started.

"Oliver?"

She knocked on the bathroom door.

The worry showed in her voice and he rolled his neck, popping it.

Breathing hard, ruthless, he couldn't help but beg desperately, "Please, go AWAY, Felicity. Just go back to bed. I'm done sleeping tonight. I'm going to go out for a run or something. I can't do this. I'm sorry."

He didn't mention that he needed a knife, that he desperately needed a knife. The tattoo was killing him, tormenting him, and he would cut the damn tattoo off his body just as soon as he found a knife.

God, he ached for a knife.

######OQ######

"No, Oliver. Come here, I know you didn't mean to try anything, that you were asleep. I'm not mad. I know we used to have sex in during the night. I remember that we touched in the middle of the night. It's okay. It's not your fault But I need."

A small silence came, as her voice lowered. "I think I was touching you too. We were both asleep. I just woke up, and I panicked remembering what you'd done and how I was dating Peter. I know you weren't trying to hurt me or force me."

But he wasn't so sure. He wanted EVERY EVERTHING."

Even now, he wanted to jerk the door open, and he wanted to rip her clothes from her body, could barely stop from taking what he wanted. With effort, he worked to focus, as his gut clenched and his chest hurt as he fought an overpowering desire to take her hard and fast.

Looking in the mirror, he ached to punch his reflection, to destroy the image of himself and he barely managed to stop himself.

"Oliver? I'm not making this better am I?"

"NO.""

Reaching, he turned on the shower to drown out the sound of her voice.

"Felicity, please, just let it go. Go back to bed. I'm taking a shower."

"Oh, OH, okay. I understand. I could use a shower myself. A very cold shower," he heard her mumble, and he felt better knowing that he wasn't the only one sexually frustrated here as he stripped off his boxers and started the shower.

He heard the door handle turn.

Groaning deeply, he was disbelieving as she opened the shower door and with slow motions that made him moan she stepped into the shower with him.

"What are you doing?" He asked breathlessly as he stood under the cold stream.

"Something I shouldn't." And she stepped into the shower with him. "Frack, Oliver that's cold water. I mean icy."

"Well I was hot for you."

Reaching, he adjusted the water as she leaned into him, and he felt like he was coming home.

As large as he was, somehow her smaller body fit like a key in a lock.

"Felicity?" He said breathlessly, trying to pull back, "I can't if it doesn't mean something."

"It means everything, Oliver. It's a new start for us."

"You can't mean that? What about Peter?"

"I'll end it."

She reached for him with the words, "I need you. Take care of me. Huh?"

His head seemed foggy as she reached for him, "Oliver, I'm hungry, past starving for you. I need another taste of you."

Something felt wrong as her hands pull him in skimming his skin but he couldn't push her away.

"Felicity?"

He tried to set her away from him but she pressed closer, with the words, "Done talking."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his mouth down to hers, and he went wild for her.

His hands smoothed, touched and found all those places only he'd ever found that made her wild. His passion went from a simmering five to a ten in a heartbeat as she wrapped her legs around him and his breathe became labored.

"That's it. Forget. Finish what we started. Lose yourself in me."

Shutting the shower off, he grabbed a towel and began to dry her off with brisk strokes and he said, "I don't have any protection."

"Depo. I got a new shot." She assured him.

A growl exploded from his mouth, as he said savagely, "To sleep with Peter, that's why. Stop I can't do this."

Her hand found him with the words, "Don't worry about Peter. He'll be taken care of."

"But."

"Shhh, don't you want to come home. No worries now and from now on."

And her lips attacked his mouth, and he didn't stop and heaven knew he didn't want to stop, no, he wanted her hard and fast.

"You taste so good, so very good."

And his hands touched her bare skin, savored and skimmed.

"Yes!" she groaned.

His and her hands clutched and smoothed and pulled the other closer.

He was back in heaven, back where he'd found happy and it seemed too good to be true as he carefully lifted her then carried her back to the queen size bed and laid her gently on it.

"You don't understand how much I've missed you," he said.

"Missed you too. Don't talk. Feel."

"But we need to talk, Felicity. This is a big step."

"Shut up. Just make love with me. Make it good for me like you always do."

And she pulled him closer, as he savored her every touch.

But he tried again to talk to her before he crossed that line that might end them forever.

"Wait."

"NO more waiting," she demanded as her hand found him and pumped.

He forgot to think as the dance began, as time slowed and he did everything right as he savored her.

His mouth made her fly and cry out. His calloused hands touched her everywhere, and he made her breath come in gasps.

"Love you. God, I missed you," he'd said repeatedly as they made love.

"Love you too."

He held on to the last instant until he had to find his release by groaning deeply and pressing his nose in her sweet neck as just managed to hold his own weight as he collapsed, spent, and wrapped up in her.

"Forever," she said, "we can stay like this forever now. Rest, Oliver. Shut your eyes and rest."

"I'll let you go so you can go and get cleaned up. Give me a few minutes."

"It's fine. Just sleep my love, just sleep now. Rest."

"Okay but you normally want to clean up."

"Shh, no worries. Rest."

He realized she didn't smell right, but he was so tired now and she was stroking his back with the words, "That's the way. Rest, come home to me, Oliver."

Lifting his head, he managed to roll over on his back, taking her with him to settle her on his chest and stroke her soft skin.

It took all he had to not go to sleep.

Then quietly, he said, "You know I want to come home, Felicity, and I'm lost without you, but we both know it's not that easy. We need to talk about this."

"Shh, all you have to do is stay with me now."

"Did you hear something?"

"Kiss me, Oliver."

"I swear my phone was ringing. Felicity, did you hear my phone?"

But she was moving down his body, kissing him as she pushed him against the bed and said, "It's nothing. Ignore it. Feel me."

"No, I'm sure I heard something."

But her hand moved downward along with her body as she said, "Me, Oliver, focus on me, just on me. Nothing else exists."

Then she put her mouth on him and he forgot as he embraced the good, the light, that was his Felicity.

####OQ####

Groaning, she jerked awake to a phone ringing, and Oliver's body was draped over her like a shroud, pressing her solidly into the bed.

Disorientated, she realized it was still night and his bare chest was blazing hot.

Yes, he was almost crushing her and he felt like a blast furnace and she was sweating from the heat coming off him. Pushing against him she was glad to see she was still wearing her pjs and he was lying on top of the covers.

She had no idea when he'd come to bed but she knew he was running fever.

"Oliver!" Shaking him hard, she was surprised that he didn't even move.

The phone stopped ringing.

"Oliver, wake up." Again, she shook him, then she pushed against his dead weight, fully expecting to wake him the instant she moved but he didn't even stir.

Shoving hard against his solid frame, groaning, she finally managed to push his massive frame off of her.

Heck, he didn't even groan when she moved him.

She frowned as he slept on, and she scowled because Oliver just didn't not wake up.

No, she knew better.

In their short time of sleeping together, she knew if she moved around very much at night, he woke up. If she went to the bathroom, he woke up. If she tossed and turned, he woke up.

She knew he was also a checker and understood he needed to check things to feel safe.

It was normal for Oliver to get up in the night and check the locks on door and windows, to make sure everything was fine.

Every night they'd slept together, at least once a night, she'd awoke to find him missing or at least awake.

Brain buzzing over these facts, she made a quick trip to the bathroom

"Crap," she said, almost jumping out of her skin, as his phone started ringing again, while she sat on the pot. 

"Oliver! Come on wake up. Who the heck is calling at this time of night?"

The phone kept ringing.

"Oliver, would you answer the fracking phone? I mean if they're calling at this time of night, then it must be important." 

No answer from Oliver and the phone kept ringing.

Again, not normal Oliver behavior.

Her heart sped up.

Hurrying, she rushed from the bathroom, not even taking time to wash her hands, and she always washed her hands.

But not this time.

No, she left the bathroom light on and froze as she noticed even in the low light that something was very wrong with his back, and no only had he not woken up, he not woken up, he hadn't moved at all.

No, he was in the exact same spot as when she'd pushed him off her.

And she knew this wasn't normal Oliver behavior and something was wrong with his back.

Grabbing her phone from the night stand, she swiped to light the screen and her hand flew to her mouth as she gasped, and then said, "Oh, frack, Oliver."

Reaching for the bedside lamp, she clicked the button, and he didn't so much as flinch as the room was flooded in low light.

"Oliver? You need to wake up?"

She started to touch him, then pulled her trembling hand back, her breath coming in hard gasps.

Across most of his back, black ugly lines ran thick and strong, ran intersecting between his scars, the dark lines that ran like a spider web across the major portion of his back.

Managing to push him over on almost his belly, she noted the lines surrounded his tattoo and from what she could see the strange letters lay angry and red on his side.

"Oliver," she shook him before she said, "your side's inflamed. Please talk to me."

She pushed him again, hard this time.

"Don't freak out, Felicity." Wrapping her arms around herself, she said out loud, "Just don't freak out. Okay, I'm going to freak out."

Her voice was rising as she said, "OLIVER! You're freaking me way out. Wake up."

Shaking him, she realized his skin was on fire and even though she shook him hard, he didn't stir a bit.

No, he didn't move a single muscle, and she was losing it.

Since her normal, Oliver, the man on constant watch who woke if she walked across the floor, or if she opened a door, or turned over in her sleep wasn't here now.

No, this wasn't Oliver.

She'd known something was wrong.

Oliver's phone chose that instant of her freak out to dare to ring again.

First she gave a small scream, then she jumped.

Then she moved.

Grabbing his phone, she read the name 'Constantine' and rapidly moved and unlocked his phone to said, "Tell me this is John Constantine, since I need help and now."

"Who's asking and how'd you get my mate's phone?"

"This is Felicity Smoak."

"And you are?"

"And Oliver and I work together."

"Aye, give me a sec, it's a tad bit early here and I've been drinking."

"Drinking? Great."

"Well a mate's got to celebrate when I deport a demon back to the other side. Have to drink a pint or two when I'm on the winning side for once. God and I aren't always the best of friends you know?"

"Why am I'm not surprised?  Constantine, we met earlier this year, remember saving Sara's soul?"

"Keep talking."

She groaned and said, "Blonde, glasses computer nerd."

Silence followed before he added, "Wait, I remember. You're the looker, the pretty blonde in the heels that Oliver's gone over the moon for. I hear congratulations are in order. Have you two set the date yet?"

Shutting her eyes, she pushed that description down, with the pain, as she blurted out, "We've broken up."

"Pity. He's wrecked about that no doubt, but he's got bigger fish to fry than you twos relationship right now. Oliver around? I need to sort out his problem with his tattoo."

"Constantine, how'd you know there was a problem with his tattoo?"

"He sent me a picture earlier and the single word, 'help.' I'd be needing to talk to him about now."

"Well I'd like to talk to him too, but he's not waking up, and he's got these ugly dark lines coming out of his tattoo. The one you gave him. So what's up with that?"

"Why me? You'd think once and a while, I'd please the man upstairs and he'd give me a break." The man said before he groaned then added, "I don't suppose he's met with the priestess yet?"

"We were supposed to meet with her in the morning."

"As normal just a little too late. Damn, though probably it's a good thing since she's going to want to kill him first off. Blast it."

"What do you mean? No one's killing Oliver."

"Forget I said that. Instead, answer a few questions. Felicity, has he been acting strangely? More angry perhaps? Any talk about killing? Blood?"

"Yeah, he's mentioned killing my new boyfriend."

"Figures. Crap. Why me? Anything else?"

"Well, maybe, he's been really angry for a while now. It's hard to tell. See we broke up, or rather I broke up with him and gave his ring back. I knew he didn't want to split, but I felt it was the best thing for both of us and now we're just friends, now even a friends with benefits thing. I so did not just say that. Regardless, I have moved on and have a boyfriend, and Oliver doesn't like it."

Constantine laughed out loud and she cringed as he said, "You think. Look, I'm not going there. Is the boyfriend still breathing?"

"Last I knew."

"Awesome. Let's try to keep him that way. Now have you noticed anything else about Oliver?"

"Well I swear there's something wrong with the color of his eyes. I don't know what's wrong but something is. And it's scary that I can't wake him up. He normally wakes up if I turn over."

"Damn, I was afraid of that. Where are you?"

She told him.

"Felicity, tie him up tight. Right the hell now. And don't untie him no matter what he says or tells you. We have to stop him from killing or he's never coming back."

"What do you mean?" Her heart was racing and her mouth had gone dry.

"I mean right now the Oliver you know doesn't exist anymore. He's somewhere else."

"No way."

"Look I know it hard to grasp but when he killed Darkrl, he inhaled dark magic. And if he kills before we can clean his soul then he belongs to the darkness. I just hope he's not already gone now."

"This can't be happening."

"See the black lines. He's gone just like Alice straight down the rabbit hole. Pulled into the darkness and his tattoo's infected because it's protecting him. See the dark lines?"

"Yes, I see the black lines coming out of it."

"Does it look like a spider web?"

"Good description and I'm not feeling  _Charlotte's Web_  kind of a good spider web here. The lines are ugly and dark. He's hot and," her voice lowered before she forced herself to add, "I swear the lines are getting longer every minute."

"The dark magic's trying to burn the tattoo off him, trying to destroy the tat, since it's still protecting him, still grounding him to this world. Watch him closely. If he wakes up, he'll try to cut it off. And you'll have to stop him. Are you looking for something to tie him up?"

She moved and started going through his bag and she said, "He's already talked about removing it. He's talked about finding a doctor tomorrow to have his tat removed."

"The dark magic wants to destroy the tat and you can't let him take the tat off. Whatever you do, keep him from taking off his tattoo. It's protecting him. If you want the real Oliver to survive TIE HIM UP and now."

"Got it. I'm tying him up right now." She wanted to cry but instead she moved from his small carry on bag and unzipped his garment bag, hunting something to tie him up with.

"Finding anything? Tie his hands first, and I suggest you hurry."

"I have two of his ties, and I'll find other things."

"Good, Felicity. Now I want you to remember that Oliver loves you. I saw that when I was there but you are going to have to be strong."

"We're broke up." She found her voice wavered, and she took a ragged breath before adding, "I gave him his ring back and ask him to keep it."

"Sorry to hear that for both of you. Yet, what you're telling me it that even though you're broke up you're in a hotel room with him now."

"Friends, we're just friends."

"Don't have to explain it to me. It's not my gig. But right now, know that your friend is in grave danger. And my tattoo's the only thing that's fighting back and keeping the dark magic from taking all of his soul right now."

"That can't be true." She refused to believe this.

"You need to brace because not only is it true it may already be too late. He may be gone already from this world already."

"NO, I refuse to believe that. You're coming right? And your friend?"

"I'll call her in the morning, and yes, I'll be there as soon as I can. Reserve the room another day and TIE HIM UP. And make it tight, really tight. I'm on my way."

"How, long?" She hated that she sounded needy but she was.

"At least six hours if I leave right now, and whatever you do DON'T UNTIE HIM. And Felicity, as soon as it gets light you go to the store and buy me ten boxes of salt."

"Salt?"

"Aye, plain salt in the box. Don't waste time either. Don't talk to anyone. Not even the cashier. And then in the parking lot open a box and put some in your pocket and in your car."

"My pocket? You're joking right?"

"Not at all. Joking aside. Listen to me. Buy the salt, don't talk to anyone, put the salt in your pocket, fling a handful in your car, then get back to your room as quick as you can and call me, and I'll tell you what to do next."

"You're kidding right? I remember the peacock feather and your back that needed scratched."

Constantine laughed out loud before he said, "No this time I truly need the salt. It will protect both you and Oliver but wait until the sun comes up before you go out to buy it, then call me."

"If it's that important, I could run out now."

"NO! Don't leave that room until the sun comes up and don't open the door to anyone but me. Dead bolt it now. Promise me, Felicity. Go and do it right now."

"Okay, I promise."

She moved and said, "Oliver already put the dead bolt on. It's locked. We're secure."

"Good. Now listen to me. The dark attracts the dark. They'll come. I would lay money on it. So don't talk to anyone. In and out, Felicity quiet like. Got me?"

Shutting her eyes, she exhaled out her nose and said, "I got you."

"Good. Knew Oliver would choose a good woman. Now I'm hanging up because I've got to drive like I've got a demon chasing me and you've got to tie my mate to the bed."

"Constantine?"

She found it hard to breath, knowing that she was about to be alone.

"Chin up, Felicity, I'll see you soon. You'll be fine. Just hang on."

"I hate that word."

"What word?"

"Fine."

He chuckled before he said, "Okay, just keep hoping that everything will be okay. Remember don't let anyone in the door. I'm trusting you to do the right thing."

Then the man hung up on her, leaving her with a dead to the world dark magic possessed Oliver.

Biting her lip, she swallowed hard then she moved and tied Oliver to a queen size bed as she muttered, "Frack, Oliver Jonas Queen, you inhaled dark magic? What next?"

Unable to halt her hand, she smoothed his scruff and his steel blue eyes snapped open and he fought the bindings, with the words, "What the hell? Untie me now."

And it was an order.

She looked him hard in the eyes and said, "Not happening."

"Now."

Narrowing her eyes, she said, "You're not Oliver and I know it."

#####OQ######

I'm back. Reviews? Let me hear from you. And as always thanks for the read. Come on talk to me! And Merry Christmas.


	8. chapter 8

Steel blue eyes stared her down and she trembled but forced herself to straighten her spine, as she spat the words, "Let me repeat. You're not Oliver and get out of him. And I mean right now."

He not just laughed out loud, but he ignored her words, with a wicked Oliver grin. "Felicity, never knew you were into kink? You know I could get into that if you're up for it. Got a feeling it would be fun."

His wicked smile hit her straight below her stomach, and she felt her girl parts warm as memories of Oliver and together, really together, filled her head.

"In your dreams."

"Darn and I thought this was going to get hot. Shame."

Then he winked at her.

The jerk actually winked at her.

Just like Oliver would have winked at her.

A hot wink.

But she knew this man wasn't Oliver and rage filled her.

"You've got real nerve."

She narrowed her eyes at him.

"You're right I do. But are you sure you wouldn't like to work with this? I'm game if you are."

His smile was sweet and hot.

And she had to shut her eyes, while she pushed down the fantasy of Oliver Queen at her mercy, tied to this queen sized bed, before she said, "Not happening."

"Darn, I'm broken hearted."

Again with his smile.

"Liar, since you're not Oliver."

Her words were crisp.

His eyes narrowed as he said, "Pity. And I've always took you for the bright one, even if you were in love with him for a while, which said otherwise."

Inhaling sharply, she exhaled out her nose before demanding, "Darhk, get out of him. Now."

"Not sorry, since I like it here."

"I mean it. Get OUT of him. You're not welcome."

He laughed then he said, "This isn't fiction, Ms. Smoak. He didn't have to invite me in. That's not the way it works and beside that I'm not a vampire."

"Couldn't prove that by me. You seem like a blood sucker to me."

"So now you care about him? Whatever."

"I've always cared."

He laughed.

Outloud.

Repeatedly.

And her gut burned as he added, "Well at least you're a pretty little liar. But you need to stop acting like you care about what happens to him."

"I'm not. I'm just . . ."

"Just what, playing him along?"

"I'm not."

She wasn't. She cared about him so his words hurt.

"You are."

"I'm not."

"Yes, you are. Hey, why don't you untie me and me and you will go and get breakfast. The sun's coming up."

"I don't think so."

"Want to make out?"

"No."

"Why not? He misses you a lot. You can even leave me tied up since I think I'd like that."

Again he winked at her.

Her face reddened. She couldn't help it.

His eyes were hot on hers, and she wished they were Oliver's eyes as she said, "Not feeling it."

"Shame. But then you're been done with him for a while. Yeah, Ms. Felicity Smoak, you kicked him solidly to the curve."

"I did not."

"Whatever."

Not Oliver, but the man who possessed his body rolled his eyes before he said, "But what I don't get is if you love him then why you don't just stop torturing him? If you care for him, you don't go fuck another guy and make him watch."

That hit her straight in the chest, and she fought to breathe as the words squeaked out, "How dare you?"

The man smoothly stopped fighting his restraints and acted like he was simply reclining, instead of being tied to the bed as he added effortlessly, "Me? More like how dare you? All of you, his sister, his friend Dig, all of you left him hanging in the wind months ago."

"Hanging in the wind?"

"Yeah, just like he'd just been hanged. All of you left him to twist in the wind and none of you cared. All of you walked away and left him to deal. Left him to handle and he's not good in his head. Not good at all."

"We didn't."

"Right." He grinned slightly before he added, "Yes, you all did and if you don't even know how screwed up his head is, then you haven't been paying attention because his head's totally messed up. It's good that you're giving up this guy, since he's seriously fucked up in the head. I mean he's been tortured, he's been. "

"Don't say the F word." She gasped and then said, "And stop talking since you don't know him like I do."

Nonchalantly, he continued, "Trust me I know him a lot better than you do. And he's got real issues. Let him be happy for once."

"You've been in his head a while. Haven't you?"

"Yeah, I have."

"That's scary."

Her legs went weak, and she reached out and leaned against the TV stand to steady herself.

And yes her brain was racing with all this new data.

Fake Oliver's face looked smug, as he added in light voice, "Now if you want to stay alive, you'll just accept this as the natural course of things. And you'll walk away."

"Natural course of things, you've got to be kidding me."

Her voice rose, along with her blood pressure.

She could feel it.

Cutting through the air sharply with her hand, she added "So not happening, I'm not letting you just steal Oliver's body. No fracking way. GET OUT!"

"Stop deluding yourself that you have any right to him." His voice was intense.

"You gave that up any rights when you gave him his ring back and pretty well told him to go fuck himself, and since then he's spent a lot of time thinking about how he could have changed things with you. Well now that problem's solved. There's no changing it. And you're the one with a boyfriend."

"He's dealing, trying to move on."

She had to believe that.

"Keep lying to yourself, Felicity, since I was there when you moved on with Peter and ripped his heart up yet again. Thanks for that by the way, since you leaving him alone to wallow in self-pity made it much easier for me."

"You can't blame me for Oliver's messed up mind."

"No, but I can be grateful that all of you decided to leaving him swinging after he killed Darhk."

She froze and looked into those steely blue eyes as her brain engaged before she said, "Don't you mean you?"

"Of course, I meant to say me."

A strangled sound erupted from her mouth and the words tumbled out, "Darhk was a host too, wasn't he. Just like Oliver."

His voice was dark, menacing, as he said, "And many before. My, Felicity, you're bright. Shame I'm not into blondes, since I would totally do you."

"You're not staying in Oliver's body. I promise I'll find a way to get you out of him, so why don't you leave now?"

"Because, I'm in like Flynn. Listen to me. Understand. Oliver's gone on to bigger and better places. And I'm Oliver Jonas Queen now, living large. And frankly, if you continue to give me problems, I'll not be kind to you. So now why don't you untie me?"

She swallowed hard before she said, "No. I want Oliver back, the real Oliver. You need to get out of him."

Pointing her finger at him, she said, "And right fracking now."

"Not happening. He likes it there. He's happy for the first time in a long time. No jealously, anger, guilt or self-blame, and his blood lust to kill Peter has opened the door wide to let me in. And now that I'm in, trust me, I'm staying in."

"You can't do that. And he's not like that."

He barked a laugh then said, "Oh, yes, I can and now, I'm thinking our working relationship is over after we get back to Star City. I'm mayor now, and we don't need the Arrow anymore."

Swallowing hard, she croaked out the words, "Our working relationship is over. Don't need the Arrow?"

"Absolutely don't need him anymore. It's time to move on to bigger and better things. You need to let it go."

"Oliver will fight back. He'll beat you."

The smile that came over his face was pure evil and his voice was smug as he said, "He's not putting up much of a fight right now."

Oliver, where are you? She thought, I need you.

"Now why don't you and I come to terms since unlike him, I don't love you or his damned city."

Alright, that was a direct hit and her heart hurt.

And she was getting to the point that she about ready to gag the man to get him to shut up.

"You keep talking like that I'm going to buy some duct tape."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Oh, yes, I'd more than dare. Remember you gave the order to shoot me and tried to gas me. Ever seen the movie Misery? I'm thinking a remake here."

Hmm, wonder what Oliver has in his car?

She still had the keys.

"Ms. Smoak, as attractive as you are, I'm not into blondes. And we both know you want to move on with your life. You deserve to do that, my dear. I'm in the position to give you what you deserve. We both know you're never going to have a healthy relationship with this man, he's got too much of the island still in him, so by all means, you should move on with your Peter, since I'll be moving on too."

"He doesn't believe that."

A smug grin and a small shake of his head made her narrow her eyes and then he added, "And once again, it seems like little do you know. Now can we wind this up and untie me so both of us can get our lives in order? Just name your price."

She thought her head was going to explode for an instant and for one of the few times in her life, she couldn't even babble.

It took several rapid eyes blinks and a hard swallow before she managed to blurt out, "You're crazy. Wind this up? My price? Oh, frack no. What you're going to do is get out of Oliver's body, and I mean right now."

"I'll not going to do that."

"No, you won't do that." She crossed her arms in front of her chest then pointed her finger at him. "But you're going to."

Once again, his grin was smug and he inhaled deeply as he said, "Not a chance since the air's sweet from inside this body. He's taken the best care of himself he could with the hand he was dealt, and he's got some damage, but all and all not a bad model. I'll have to do something about the scars, but I don't foresee that as being a real problem. Now if you would just untie me."

"You talk about him like he's a car. Well see about that. Look the sun's coming up, and I've got an errand to run, Darhk"

"My dear, again, I never said I was Damien Darhk."

His voice was low. He laughed harshly, "So take this as a warning. I'm much more than that. And if you want to live you'll untie me right now."

"I can't."

"Yes, you can."

"No, I can't." Her heart was pounding as she turned on the TV and put on a movie and turned the volume up, with the words, "Take in a movie. I'll be back."

"Release me," he screamed as she grabbed up the key card and rushed toward the door as she hurried thinking, Constantine said they needed salt, and she would buy out the store if need be.

"Don't you dare leave me here. You'll pay for this. You do know your blood will work as well as anyone else? Maybe better."

Freezing, she turned and said, "Oliver, where are you? I need you."

"I told you he's gone, and if you don't untie me. . ."

Tears threatened as she pushed the door open and was out it before he could make the threat. Hurrying, she ran down the hall and pressed the button for the elevator.

"Focus," she told herself as her heart pounded. "Channel Oliver. Do what needs to be done. Get salt and get back. Get salt and get back. Constantine's coming. Get salt and get back."

#####OQ#####

As always thanks for the read. Love to hear from you with any reviews or thoughts. Have a Happy New Year all.

 


End file.
